Grey and Gray
by Shadowfang3000
Summary: "We're only human." - Swain is due to be crowned as Grand General of Noxus, waiting for the final preparations of the ceremony to finish. Alone in his room, he is met by an old companion; friend or foe, he could never conclude.


(A/N): Perhaps **this** is the one that breathes new life into me? :D

It's been an extremely long while since my last fanfiction, to the point that every other attempt at writing a new fic (Numbers over _five)_ have a speech like this about how "This might be the repair to my writer's block" and other junk like that :P

Anyway, this is a story based on my own interpretation of the relationship between Swain and Leblanc. Swain happens to be one of my favourite characters, and I believe his relationship with Leblanc has numerous qualities that would be interesting to write about :3

Expect my usual: Nothing special. I'm actually writing this in the library of my school during a free period, since the book I'm reading right now is rather bland ;_;

LET'S GET IT ON

Warning: Terrible attempts at being endearing, lots spelling errors, OOC characters, Leblanc being a flirty and happy person and Swain being kind of… Tsun-tsun?! D:

**Grey and Gray**

_The golden bar of promotion was glued to his sleeve in front of a clapping audience. Their applause was uniform to the point of it being devoid of any empathy, with the majority of the crowd having no idea who this man was amongst the other fifty-or-so new officers._

_It was the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, and with that came the results of the year's Officer Examination: A collection of essays, squad exercises, and strategic simulations. The Black Rose was always in need of commanders within its ever swelling ranks, and today he'd join the files._

_Dismounting the stage and leaving the area with a warm smile, his grin slowly evaporated into an unimpressed and dull frown that frequented his features. There was no crowd to appease, so why should he put effort into his façade of happiness?_

"_Jericho?" A woman called, appearing out of nowhere. Another thunderous roar echoed through the area, its muffled fury likely covering the sound of her footsteps. The man turned to her, his eyes pale with disinterest._

"_How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" He grumbled, slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit. "My name is Swain, are we clear?"_

"_But if prefer Jericho!" She pouted, feigning sadness like a little girl. She walked towards him, closing the substantial gap at tremendous speed. "Sounds cuter if you ask me."_

"_We're military officers." Swain growled, tapping his foot impatiently. "You're my superior, you should know this. This isn't a clubhouse for teens, it's a serious profession."_

"_All work and no fun with you Jericho." The woman frowned, her purple hair matching her glowing and enthusiastic eyes. "You need to loosen up a bit."_

"_Loosen up?" He cracked, a slight change in pitch on the final word hinting a raised eyebrow. "I'll loosen up when my country is safe."_

_The woman placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture conveying a motherly kindness rather than childish friendship. Swain would have pushed her away, but he knew that this lady meant him no harm._

"_Leblanc." He uttered, shaking his head. "One day I'll seize the moment. Noxus will shine again, and it will be a brighter light than ever before. I don't care what happens, as long as my nation is glorious aga-"_

_She flicked his nose, prompting a timid "Ow." from him._

"_You'll get there in the end, Jericho!" Leblanc smiled, her voice drowning in pity. He could tell that she didn't believe in him, even if she was an apparent master of deception. "I know you will!"_

"_Swain." He repeated, rolling his eyes. "My name is Swain."_

"_But we're equals now!" She whined, turning and skipping a few steps away. "Surely we're on a first name basis?"_

"_Not for long." Swain muttered, walking towards her and slipping past. "I've still got a mission."_

"_Where are you going?" Leblanc called as the man left, her hand raised in protest. "This is a time to celebrate a job well done!"_

"_I'll do that when the job is finished." Swain replied as he continued to walk away, leaving Leblanc on her lonesome. More applause rumbled the ground, as a duo of newly promoted men descended the stage and went by minding their own business._

_The woman was nowhere to be seen._

X

_The garment felt tight across his chest._

Standing awkwardly with his arms outstretched, Swain regarded the legion of servants of various tones and genders flocking around his person with contempt. Bearing brushes, clothing and numerous measuring tools, these aspiring fashion designers had been using him as a dress up doll for almost two hours. Cramming various sceptres and ornate hats onto any limb that could accustom them, it seemed that this arduous game wasn't going to end any time soon. He'd rather stick to his usual robes, which were ceremonial in their own right, but today was a monumental occasion.

_His crowning as Grand General._

_Peace had finally been secured for his people._

A young male crouched to his side, stretching a long tape from his hip to his toes. Swain chuckled at the thought of it: The boy would've been a conscript in the civil war if it wasn't for his efforts. Thanks to him, the culture of Noxus finally had a chance to flourish beyond simple bloodshed.

"Breathe in sir?" The boy asked, his voice possessing a delicate nature alien to him. Swain complied, taking a small breath and holding it as the attendant wrapped the tape measure around his waist. The large pauldrons of the ceremonial robe were excessively heavy, covered in a fancy design that must've taken days to complete. It was hard enough to breathe with those alone crushing down on his shoulders, but it didn't help that there were over ten men and women in this small, claustrophobic changing room.

The boy stood up and left to jot some measurements down. Swain took this as a signal to start breathing again, sagging low like a deflated bouncy castle. Another attendant came to his side; a short girl with a rather large looking screwdriver caught in between her pale fingers. She hopped onto her tip-toes and began fiddling with a set of screws on his armour plated shoulders. After two small lumps of metal popped out of their places, the pauldron suddenly slipped off his arm violently and sent him leaning to one side. The woman heaved the chunk of iron away, leaving him lopsided with the weight of his one remaining shoulder pad pulling him down.

The woman eventually returned with a replacement, having a much easier time reaching him this time due to his need to sit down on a nearby stool. Locking it into place, Swain was glad that he could at least balance upright again.

"The ceremony shall begin in ten minutes sir." The woman smiled, placing her hands on her hips and sighing. "Should we leave you be?"

Swain nodded absently, leaning against the fancy sceptre that he bore in his right hand. The attendants all left in an orderly fashion, likely needing to make the finishing touches to the rest of the extravagant ceremony. He'd prefer something simple, but he had an entire nation to please with his presence.

_They were expecting the best of the best._

The cheap materials of the sceptre wiggled with strain as he rested his weight against it, his mind too absent to care about such things. He'd been working to this end for a decade, and finally his efforts had paid off. Noxus had been spared a second chance, and he intended to devote his life to making the once great nation regain its imperial glory.

Beatrice cawed softly from her cage on the mantel piece, observing her master curiously. Swain slowly raised his heavy helmet off of his head and set it on the floor next to him, hoping to relax for a moment despite his relative discomfort. Closing his eyes, he began to mutter to himself quietly to pass the time.

"We're getting there… We're _getting_ there…" He whispered, his mind trying to convince the small pockets of resistance and doubt in his thoughts that victory was indeed imminent. There had been many points in his quest that he felt like giving up, yet an incessant drive within his brain kept him going against the advice of the rest of him.

_Some said it did him more harm than good._

His Raven cawed again, spreading her wings in a vain attempt of stretching. Beatrice was a rather big bird, and such a small and confined space must've been scaring her deeply. Swain spoke out loud to her, not needing to turn to grab her attention.

"I'll treat you to something nice later." He smiled, his voice possessing a dry happiness to it that he rarely revealed. "Go out, have a wander. Like the old days."

Still she cawed, as if someone was interacting with her. Rubbing the back of his neck more out of habit than need, he was rather surprised when he heard a familiar voice speaking out.

"Poor girl." A feminine voice whispered mournfully. Swain twisted his head around to find a purple-headed woman standing by his bird cage, wiggling her finger between the bars to grab Beatrice's attention. The Raven tended to hate everyone that tried to intervene with her day, but for some reason she seemed rather happy in the presence of this young lady.

"I remember when you first met this bird." She smiled, turning to look at him. Swain said nothing, simply maintaining his glare with the sort of intensity that would cause most people to burst into flames. "They didn't let you bring her into meetings, didn't they?" she reached for the latches of the cage, releasing the gate to allow Beatrice to fly free. "Come on little missy, you need to stretch your wings!"

Beatrice joyfully hopped onto her shoulder, before she turned to meet Swain's never-ending stare. The young woman stepped back in embarrassment, as if she'd only just realised that he was in the room with her.

"Leblanc." Swain said stoically, this form of greeting being the politest he could muster. She smiled, her youthful features identical to how they were ten years ago. She slowly paced towards him, letting Beatrice nuzzle against her palm affectionately.

"My, it certainly has been a while." She giggled, looking the man up and down. The garb he wore was much more fancy than anything she'd seen him in before, the man often preferring simple and dull greens. "Gained a new fashion sense?"

Swain scoffed at this, turning away from her childishly. She slowly walked around his chair and knelt in front of him, trying to catch his gaze. "You've grown so much in ten years! Not as cute, for sure… But certainly more handsome."

"Couldn't say the same for you." Swain snapped in response, not quite understanding the meaning of his reply himself. Leblanc hadn't changed one bit since their last encounter, and still possessed the face of a cheerful twenty year old woman. She stealthily tried to reach out for his cheek, yet he pulled back out of instinct. "What do you want?"

Leblanc lowered her hand in disappointment, placing it on her lap before replying in a sing-sing voice. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Dandy." He replied, resting against his balled fist. "Now would you kindly leave?"

Beatrice cawed in protest, wishing for Leblanc to stay with them. Swain would have responded, but Leblanc was quick to change the conversation. "So they let you bring Beatrice in now?"

"Providing she is caged, yes." He answered, gritting his teeth. He wasn't in the mood to speak to this woman now, especially considering how much doubt she had for him. She had never believed in his quest, and if anything she only sought to hold him back. Swain looked to the right, pretending to be interested in the jewel of his sceptre.

"Soooooo…" Leblanc whistled, puffing out air as she rose to her feet. "How's work…?"

Swain gave her a raised eyebrow, as if she'd just gone up to him and asked if his leg was gammy. He tapped the bottom of his sceptre against the ornate helmet by his feet before resting it back down onto the ground. "Surely you can tell?"

"_High Commander_. To think that I knew you when you were barely an officer!" She chuckled, placing her hands together and rocking on her feet. "I'm so proud of you Jericho, well done!"

"Thanks." He replied absently, doing his best to ignore her. Part of him was honoured that such a powerful woman was proud of him, but at the same time he was sickened by her laid back attitude and lack of work ethic. He simply didn't want to associate with someone who never worked hard.

"What's the plan?" Leblanc asked, letting Beatrice hop off of her arm and waddle away. "You've always wanted this, and it's finally here."

Swain exhaled deeply, his eyelids drooping low in general apathy. It was hilarious really, but he'd spent so much time planning his _ascent _to the position of High Commander that he'd never considered just _what _he'd do when he got there.

_The Master Tactician had met his own counter._

_Check._

"I will make do with what I am granted." Swain sighed, trying to maintain his blank persona. "Noxus will find a way, and it will work."

Leblanc tilted her head, kneeling in front of the grumpy man once again and staring into his eyes cheekily. "Hmmm?"

Eventually he couldn't resist looking back, intimidated by her unfaltering gaze. "… What?"

"You didn't plan ahead, did you?" She grinned, glad to have bested him on the field of word-slinging. Swain quickly looked down to his toes, rather embarrassed by such a foolish mistake. Beatrice observed from the distance, wondering who she should support in this exchange.

"I admit." He growled, his grip on his sceptre tightening with every vowel. "… That I didn't plan ahead…"

"It's a reasonable mistake." She giggled, giving him a look that he could best describe as condescending. "Don't worry; I'll help you out of it."

"… I beg your pardon?" Swain muttered, having started the sentence as soon as the final word left the violet woman's glittering lips. His mouth curled into a snarl, his voice adopting a much more bitter and emotional tone. "I don't need your help, woman."

"Come on; throw away that sense of pride for a bit!" She winked, placing her hands onto the parallel armrests of his chair. "We can work together, towards the same go-"

Swain stabbed the shaft of his sceptre into the ground, like the gavel of a judge declaring a man guilty. Leblanc stopped speaking instantly, realising that she had angered the man in some way. After a moment's silence, Swain hissed every single one of his words slowly.

"I do not need _your _help."

Leblanc wobbled on her feet in her kneeling position, looking at the Tactician's ambivalent expression cautiously. Her voice adopted a quiet tone; something she'd rarely do. "You don't need it. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing…"

Swain continued pressing his weight down onto his sceptre, the flimsy metal whining in protest. This woman had done nothing but halt his progress for _ten years._ Now, at his finest hour, had she come back to pour a few more grams of salt into his wounds?

_She was smiling at him, trying to be as reassuring as she could._

_Those shining eyes._

_Those beautiful, tempting eyes._

_He would not falter._

The woman clutched onto his hand tightly, yet for once he did not protest. He didn't spit out a childish and endearing retort to her flirtatious gesture, he simply stared at her with drilling intensity. After a few moments, Swain leant forward and closed the gap between them.

"Ten years." He muttered, practically ready to burst. "You have done _nothing _but hold me _back _for ten god _damn_ years."

Leblanc had a happy-go-lucky response nestled up her metaphorical sleeve and prepped for launch, yet she hushed it back. Her gentle smile held firm, ready to receive this outburst of rage.

_Everyone needs a punching bag._

"I have bled… I have sweat… I have screamed day in, day out to get _here._ So if you think you have _any _idea about how to do my work." He briefly stopped, leaning back and swinging his arms out as if appealing to the gods sarcastically. "Give me _all_ you've got."

The violet lady sighed, remaining in her place. To be honest, she was equally as confused as he was. Swain had thrown himself into a pit of lions, and managed to fight his way to the feeding grounds against all of the odds. He wasn't going to survive long at this rate.

_They needed eachother._

"When I first met you, you said something to me." Leblanc eventually began, glancing at the man's jaw. She had always known that he hid a large, bloodied scar across his mouth. Yet seeing it up close just filled her with a sense of pity and remorse. "Do you remember what it was?"

Swain remained silent, like a badly behaved child being told off by their mother.

"You told me something wise." She continued, before lowering her voice and attempting to mimic the tone of the Tactician himself. " _'How you're remembered is not as important as how you've lived.' "_

Swain let loose a gentle chuckle. "Good impression, Master of Deception."

"I know that you want to keep hold of that self-sustaining image; a man who did it all by himself." She sighed, mustering her second hand and holding onto his gauntleted fist firmly. Swain returned her grip, finding her caressing fingers surprisingly comforting. "But you need to let that _go._"

Swain looked away hastily, unsure of what she meant. He had never seen himself as a man with an ego; he was simply superior to the majority of men and women in Valoran. It wasn't a delusion, it was _fact._

"… What do you propose…?"

"I meant it." She said firmly. She leant forwards, smiling softly. Swain felt captivated by her beauty; the fisherman to her Siren. "We can do it together. You and me, side by side. We can save Noxus together, Swain. _Together."_

"Bah!" Swain scoffed, batting her hands away from his. Hauling himself from his seat, he grasped onto his sceptre and hobbled over to Beatrice's cage. The sceptre was unwieldy, yet it would suffice as a replacement for his crutch for now. Leblanc rose to her feet to pursue him, yet he continued to doubt her. "You'll just hold me back _again_!"

"I _won't_!" She gasped, shocked by his accusation. She stuttered from sudden fear, finding this man terrifying in an enraged state foreign to her. "I-I know I have before, but not this time!"

She was referring to his initial exam to become an officer within the Noxian military. He could've assumed his current position a year ago if it wasn't for her constant distraction and recommendations leading to his failure. He'd once believed her to be a reliable source of help and advice.

_How wrong he was._

"Oh, be reasonable Leblanc!" He taunted, spinning around to glare at her with fiery fury. "You've always spoken to me as some sort of… _Boy…"_

"What…?"

"All of this." He gestured, brandishing his ornate guise and presenting the reborn Noxus. "You _never _believed in me. It was all just a funny old game that you could _watch_ unfold from the sidelines."

For the first time ever, Leblanc had no response.

_Not a word._

She stood there nervously, her slender legs trembling gently as she tried to comprehend the situation. The Puppet had been cut loose of his strings, and does any Puppeteer know what to do when that happens?

"I-I've had enough." Swain stammered, the silence of the woman before him bringing forth a sense of unease. He wanted to leave; he had better things to be doing. Trying to regain his composure, he slowly limped past Leblanc to retrieve his helmet. "I'm sick of it, Leblanc."

Swain slowly bent his tired knees, squatting down and pinching the ceremonial headwear from the spotless floor. Leblanc still stood silently behind him, her gaze hung low in despair.

"I'm sick of it."

Leblanc turned to face the Grand General, her eyebrows contorted into a worried expression as the words left her mouth. Pacing towards the angered man, Leblanc grabbed a purchase on the helmet and held it with him. While it wasn't quite a holding of hands, to her it was just as symbolic.

"You're always so _sad. _So... _Melancholy..."_ She slowly began to lift the heavy lump of iron up with him, intending to assist him in preparing for the ceremony. "You're convinced that no one believed in you... I-I always have..."

Swain remained silent, halting his raising of the headwear. Leblanc almost appeared teary-eyed, her purple irises wobbling unsteadily as the salty liquid began to settle. Gulping back the torrent of emotion, she continued her speech.

"Why else did I follow you? Why else did I _try_?" She growled, the suppressed fury and anger brought on by Swain's constant snobbery squeezing through her teeth to make itself known. "It's because... I _believe_ in you..."

She had leant incredibly close, their noses practically competing with eachother for space. Yet for some reason, Swain didn't feel that sense of unease and discomfort he usually had around her.

_All he felt was an intense feeling of longing._

_Of camaraderie._

"Noxus needs a man to rally behind." She declared powerfully. It would've been a domineering phrase, yet her face had been overwhelmed with innocence and sadness. While like all members of the Black Rose she had a tainted past, that didn't change who she was. "And from the moment we met, I knew it would be _you_."

"All of it. All of your distractions and miscommunication, those times you visited me..." Swain thought alloud, trying to put the pieces together. "... You were worrying for me?"

"We're only human." She smiled gently, bringing her warm hands to bear once more. He didn't protest as she ran her palm across his scars – a symbol of his own vulnerability and mortality. It felt as if the rage of his past was concentrated on the bloodied smear that coated his jaw, and that her soothing touch was releasing the pain of torment. Part of him wanted to return the gesture to his long-time companion, yet the helmet in his palms tugged downwards on his arms.

_No trips to paradise on reality's watch._

_But fate can always be beaten._

Swain let the helmet tumble to the floor, bringing his hands forward to feel her beauty up close. She surrendered to him without protest, letting him caress her snow-white features like a humbled mother with their newborn child. It was a strange thing to enjoy, yet he found it immensely comforting to feel the woman's warmth.

_She was as mortal and real as he._

Through the filter of aging tears, Leblanc couldn't suppress a giggle at this display. Neither of the two were very experienced at being romantic, and this display of storgic affection quickly grew rather awkward. "I thought my little raven didn't want anything to do with me."

Swain chuckled at this, running his hand down her arm until he found her hands. He was just stalling for time – time to hold and feel and touch the one woman who believed in him. Leblanc seemed to be doing the same, until she glanced down at the abandoned helmet that sat on the floor.

"You have a nation to protect." Leblanc declared in a mocking military tone. Crouching down to heave his helmet up, she had a surprisingly easy time with it as she slowly set it down on his balding scalp. She held on to it firmly, resting her forehead against the freezing metal for a moment. "... Are you ready?"

"Who knows." Swain sighed, the helmet restricting him to facing forward. "I'll just do what comes right. It'll work out in the end, for the better."

Leblanc spotted the General's sceptre discarded across the room, having likely been thrown at some point during their exchange of raised voices. She quickly paced over to pick it up, shocked by the weakness of the material. While it looked like something a magical wizard of high ranking power would wield, it was actually just a lump of wood and copper with a nice looking jewel on the top.

_Efficient, for certain._

She returned with the ornate staff in hand, the towering form of Swain looking rather intimidating in full garb. She pushed the sceptre forward, lazily warning him a moment beforehand. "Staff."

Swain barely had time to snatch it before it flew to the floor, wobbling on uncertain feet for a moment as he levelled his balance. He scoffed dryly at this, regaining his proud and noble composure. "Mischievous of you."

She responded with a childish flip of the tongue, before taking a step back to view the man in full. After a moment, she paced back towards him and tapped the top of the iron mask with a dull tang. "You look just like a knight in shining armour."

Swain's eyes scanned back and forth sceptically before he responded curiously. "Rather evil looking armour if you ask me."

" '_Evil and good all come down to interpretation.' _" Leblanc quoted perfectly, as if reading from a book. "Didn't you say that to me once?"

The General shrugged off the question with a grin, before taking a deep breath. The ceremony was about to begin, and deep in he felt a stabbing sense of fear. While he was a man of stoic face when it came to business, fear could always overturn that facade. Lifting his lame leg forward he took the first step, bringing the sceptre to bear with indoctrined formality.

"Need any help?" Leblanc offered, walking by his right. She presented her shoulder, which was at a perfect height for Swain to comfortably lean on."For the first few steps?"

Swain gestured his distaste at the tempting proposal, purposefully speeding his walk up to show that he needed no help. In honesty, he was walking slowly just to waste more time. "I can do it. I _can_ do it."

_He hoped he could at least._

In a few moments he was by the door, Leblanc having remained in place after he waved her away. He turned for a final word just in time to spot her smile; of pride and respect.

"Good luck Swain." She nodded, folding her arms across her chest maturely. He stood there silently for a moment, leaning his back against the wall for support. After a few seconds, he exhaled awkwardly.

"Jericho..." He muttered, the shroud of the helmet hiding his embarrassed expression. "I've... G-Grown rather fond of that name..."

"The cheek!" She exclaimed, laughing to herself. "I spend ten years learning to call you Swain, and all of a sudden you change your mind!"

"Got to keep your mind exercising somehow, _Evaine_." He chuckled, dropping in the true name of the violet woman temptingly. No other knew of her real name, and a spread of red across her cheeks displayed her displeasure at the sudden use of it.

"Leblanc!" She growled comically. "I've grown _fond_ of Leblanc!"

Swain remained against the wall, wishing to spend just a few more seconds with the woman before him. Recovering from her giggling fit, she sighed and shook her head.

"We're like a bickering old couple, aren't we?"

"A couple?" Swain dared, turning to leave. "Imagine that."

He proceeded to exit the room, filled with the confidence and morale to begin the ceremony. In a few hours time, he would be in control of one of the world's largest and strongest city states. To be honest, not even the greatest of mystics could tell what was to come. Swain could become the greatest leader to ever grace the command of Noxus, or he could fall at the first hurdle. That sense of uncertainty that tainted every role in politics?

_That was what he lived for._

Leblanc stood in the room alone to gather her bearings, comprehending what she'd just experienced. While she was a master at deception, emotion was something she could rarely fake efficiently. She sighed gently before brushing her pale hand against her cheek, the warmth of the man's touch still lingering in her plump flesh.

"_Imagine that."_

_Dreams have come true before, Jericho._

X

_(A/N): I FINISHED A STORY! I FINISHED A STORY! YES YES YES!_

_*Ahem*_

_Back in the Saddle? Probably not ._._

_Anyway, review and feedback as per usual. It's been two months since I've finished a story, so be easy on me eh? :P_


End file.
